Love You Dead

111 Friday 13 March

Norman Potting was in danger and there was no one immediately available to protect him.

Cleo was feeding Noah, and Grace sat up with her, thinking hard. Should he break with all the rules, drive down to Roedean Crescent and be on hand for Norman? He had confided the UC’s identity to Cleo, which he knew she would keep secret.

Half an hour later, just approaching midnight, Noah was sound asleep and Cleo collapsed, exhausted, into bed.

‘Try to sleep, darling,’ she said. ‘You won’t be any use to Norman if you’re too tired.’

He yawned. ‘You’re right.’ He reached out and turned off his bedside light, but then after a few moments switched it back on. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I can’t leave him exposed like this. I’ve got to go and check he’s OK.’

‘Do what you’ve got to do. Just be careful and get back as soon as you can, you have to have some sleep.’

He dressed, pulled on a warm coat, made himself a quick espresso and calmed Humphrey, who seemed to think it was morning. He wiped the mist off the Alfa’s windows, started the engine and drove fast towards Brighton.

Fifteen minutes later he turned into Roedean Crescent and slowed, looking at the house numbers in the dark street. The odd numbers were on the left-hand side. He put the window down and shone his torch, driving slowly, passing a few parked cars with misted windows, indicating they had been there for some while, until he reached No. 191. He carried on. A cat shot across the road a short distance in front of him.

He cruised the area, turning down all the side streets, looking for any suspicious vehicle where Tooth might be lurking. Although it was quite possible that the hitman was having the same difficulties as they’d had in locating Jodie Carmichael’s real residence, until Potting had established it. He drove back along Roedean Crescent, halted a good hundred yards from the entrance to the drive, switched his lights off, climbed out and walked back.

In case Jodie had night vision CCTV cameras, something he wouldn’t have put past her, considering her form, he just ambled slowly past like any man out taking a late stroll, glancing down the driveway as he passed. He could see the silhouette of the house directly below, which appeared to be in complete darkness. Norman Potting was in there, somewhere, asleep, according to the latest update.

Grace crossed the road, and walked back along the other side, barely glancing at the driveway this time, then crossed over again and got back into his car, still looking around and thinking, wondering. Just what was going on in that house right now?

According to the duty handler, who was listening to every word that was exchanged between Potting and Jodie Carmichael, not much. Potting had gone to bed. Alone.

He looked at his watch. It was coming up to 1 a.m. Despite the espresso he felt leaden, and thought back to Cleo’s words, that he’d be no use to Norman if he was too tired. He felt exhausted.

He drove home.